


caught in your orbit

by moonburntmemory



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Avatar (Avatar TV), Badass Katara (Avatar), Cheating, Eventual steambaby, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Infidelity, No War AU, Non-Explicit Sex, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, chieftess katara, like most of this is pillowtalk but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonburntmemory/pseuds/moonburntmemory
Summary: “We can deny it all day and night, but you are the sun and I am the earth, with all of its faults and broken pieces. I revolve around you, no matter how hard I try to break away.” Katara could speak truths of her and Zuko until she ran out of breath, but he still wouldn’t want to listen.The Avatar vanished, but there was no war. One hundred years later, Katara is the Chieftess of the Southern Water Tribe and Zuko is the Fire Lord. They shouldn't love each other, but they do.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kynikos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kynikos/gifts).



Katara is eighteen-years-old when she meets the source of her endless gratification and inevitable downfall.

Shivering on the docks underneath the weight of a hairpiece as old as the traditions of her people, she uses every scrap of willpower she could muster to evoke an air of regality. Her youth undermines her authority to the small-minded men who oppose her and she knows this. Therefore, she is not permitted to make mistakes as a man would be. 

Especially not today. She can feel the phantom weight of the polar ice caps resting square on her shoulders, an unshared burden, invisible to those around her. Her father stands to her right and her brother to her left, but Katara is alone against the ships that start to open their contents to her land. 

She breathes deeply and attempts to conceal the nervousness reverberating through her entire body before the waves of the ocean begin to move with her. The gangplank falls to the ground with a loud clang and her heart follows it down. 

The sleek steel of the Fire Nation ships is tread upon by people who match its careful construction, carrying themselves with stiff posture and smoothly slicked back topknots. The sea of red grows as they step onto the ice, spreading across the snow like a dripping pool of blood. 

The cluster of silent followers parts for its leader, who steps out to Katara with a perfunctory elegance that she envies greatly. She can’t decide whether the figure exudes the authority himself or it’s a result of the intricate finery of his ensemble, complete with leather shoulder pads and a gleaming crown keeping his hair in place.

As he comes close enough for Katara to finally make out the details of him, she almost lets the indifferent facade she wears fall in shock. Across his left eye and cheekbone, there is a flash of past pain, a mottled and raw pink scar that tells every person this man ever meets that he has been burned. He has suffered badly in a manner that is not reflected in his calm expression and eyes. 

Katara wonders whether his right to rule is feigned, just as hers is. 

After she has retreated from the precipice of a falter, she gleans more information from the study of his face. The unscarred portions, in their delicate paleness that reminds her of freshly fallen snow, are unwrinkled and smooth. She would consider him to be extremely attractive if they were meeting under different circumstances. There is youth in his face and she doesn’t think he can be much older than her. A sense of relief warms the stiff anxiety of her extremities; for some reason, the thought that this powerful world leader is not much more experienced than her is reassuring. Katara had been under the impression that she would be addressing a fully-fledged Fire Lord wisened by years of rule, not a young boy in a similar position as her.

“Chieftess of the Southern Water Tribe, it is an honor to be in your presence. Thank you for your hospitality,” he announces in an enunciated voice for all to hear. 

He is a powerful commander of words, although up close there are flaws that only Katara can see, inches from his face. 

The corner of his mouth twitches when he says her name as if he is somewhat unsure if his pronunciation is correct. As Katara removes the hood of her parka to reveal her elaborate hair upon being addressed, she sees his right eye widen in surprise, as if he was expecting her grandmother instead of her. He withdraws the hints of expression from his face once he regains his composure, but this fanfare suddenly seems like foolish banter between two children.

She addresses him back in her own voice blanketed with an assurance that she does not truly possess. “Fire Lord, welcome to the South Pole.”

Katara reaches out to grip his forearm at the exact moment he places his open palm above a closed fist in front of him with a bow. The tension rises like swirling snow as their cultures clash before their people. There is a moment of still silence as Katara remains firm with her outstretched forearm until the young Fire Lord decides to adopt the customs of the land he is encroaching upon. 

He presents his first, mirroring her gesture with visible hesitance. Katara’s harsh and preconceived notions soften as his uncertainty makes him more real. She grips his forearm and lets him do the same before turning on her heels and beckoning him into their tribe.

“Come, Fire Lord. There is much to discuss.”

She leads the procession of diplomats and leaders with each assured step of her boots through the crunching snow beneath them. The Fire Lord following her slips and fumbles in the unfamiliar climate several times, but she pretends to not hear the sounds. 

Katara can feel the watchful eyes of Sokka and her father on the crown of braids resting on the back of her head. She can practically hear their silent prayers as they try to blanket her in luck as if it could keep out the cold as well as thick skins and blankets.

She bears a burden that none of her predecessors had prepared her for, and only sheer willpower lies between her tribe and the possibility of war. Katara keeps this in mind, making sure that her eyes do not betray her fear as she steps into the igloo to meet with the Fire Nation for the first time in one hundred years.

They sit across from each other, surrounded by enough advisors to make the air of the room clammy with heat.

Katara waits for him to speak first as is proper for a guest, but he does not attempt to do so. It seems that he did not study the customs of her people before coming here. She wonders whether this was out of ignorance or inability. She could only guess as to what information about the Water Tribes the Fire Nation possessed after so many years of isolation. 

“If the Chieftess does not mind, I would like to speak with her alone. Without advisors,” the Fire Lord announces in his raspy voice that catches Katara off guard. She knows this could be a ploy to harm her, but there was no way it could work. The Fire Nation does not know that she was a waterbender and if this is what she must do to reveal their true intentions, so be it. 

The tribespeople around Katara begin to protest with growing suspicion, but Katara waves her hand and agrees. Hakoda and Sokka shoot her a warning look, but she nods deliberately, assuring them she knows what she is doing. They reluctantly back down. “If that is what the Fire Lord wishes, I do not mind. Please, let us meet privately.”

The room clears out until it is just the two of them, but he makes no move to speak. 

With the suspicion of her father heavy in her heart, Katara breaks the silence and tradition. “Here in private, we can drop the formalities, for time’s sake. You may call me Katara.”

Her grandmother had always told her it was best to get enemies to drop their guard before attacking, like the few flakes of snow in the sky before a catastrophic storm. The Fire Lord had never experienced a deadly snowstorm before.

“I am Zuko. And forgive me, but I was under the impression I would be meeting Chieftess Kanna,” he replies in a steady voice.

Katara grows impatient with the Fire Lord and his thinly veiled demands. There will be no more experienced substitute for Katara because there are none left. “I am afraid that is not possible, as she is dead. I am Kanna’s granddaughter and the current Chieftess. I hope that does not upset you, Zuko.”

It takes him a moment to conceal the flash of surprise on his face before speaking again. “I am sorry-”

Katara does not let him finish. She will not waste her time with the empty platitudes of men who secretly questioned her authority. “Thank you for the thought, but there is no use avoiding the topic at hand. So tell me, Zuko, why are you here?”

The surprise is evident in his changing body language as any false sense of security that Katara had instilled in him is ripped away. “What do you mean by that?”

Katara does not mince words. “The Fire Nation has been withdrawn from the world for a century and suddenly you wish to visit the Southern Water Tribe for a  _ diplomatic meeting _ ? What do you truly want? Control? Colonization? Decimation?” 

“N-no! The Fire Nation does not wish to harm the Southern Water Tribe at all! We truly only want to reestablish the severed relationship between our nations. I swear it.”

“So you want to overshadow the past with the present? In the Water Tribes, a person is an extension of their ancestors. Their triumphs and failures are a part of us. I guess the same isn’t true in the Fire Nation.”

“I’m trying to mend the wounds they caused.”

Katara’s gaze is unyielding. At the very least, the Fire Lord must go home with tales about the unmoving strength of their tribe and fear of invading. “ The Fire Nation turned their backs on the world when the Avatar disappeared. When we needed you most, you ignored our calls. Why should we listen to you now? Why should I believe you? What makes you any different from those before you?”

“Because they’re dead and I’m responsible. You are not your predecessor and I am not mine. I do not compare you to your grandmother and I hope that you shall give me a similar chance to be judged for my own actions.” If there is hostility in his voice, she cannot detect it. 

Still, she is wary of this new Fire Lord sitting atop a throne he has not yet grown into. “You ask me to judge you by your own actions and then claim credit for the deaths of your former leaders?

“There was a civil war. I lost my entire family. But now there’s hope for my nation to heal and I will not waste it by following in the footsteps that almost lead us to ruin.” There is a sadness in Zuko’s eyes that is familiar to Katara. He carries the same loss that she does.

“The other nations have suffered as a result of the Fire Nation’s actions. The spirits turned on us when the balance was disrupted. We have lost people, too,” Katara replies slowly. She had personally lost someone. 

“And for that, I am eternally sorry. I cannot reverse the actions of the past, but I can try to change the future. That is what I am doing here. All I am asking for is a chance, from you.”

The chieftess of her tribe is always renowned for her natural ability to judge others. And Katara can tell that Zuko is genuine. For a moment, he even seems vulnerable, like the young person he is instead of the Fire Lord. Katara feels her chest grow warmer within the thick dyed fur covering it. Perhaps a new age is upon the world. 

Katara decides that risks must be taken to reap rewards. An alliance with the Fire Nation could prove to be invaluable in protecting her people from the angry spirits. Maybe this could even appease them. 

“Then we will have a treaty. We shall be allies so long as you keep your word, Fire Lord Zuko.”

He smiles with his eyes for the first time since she has known him. “Thank you, Chieftess Katara.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pineapple upside-down jake is the best

The second time the Fire Nation comes, they are met with a much warmer welcome. It has been months since they last saw each other and Katara is reassured by Zuko’s unchanged appearance. She walks out to greet Zuko on the dock this time and locks arms with him as a show of their alliance. They address each other by their full titles in front of the crowd with no hint of the hostility that had once permeated the air between them. 

It’s a continuation of the treaty negotiations from last time and Katara can feel her guard dropping the longer she’s with Zuko. It’s her responsibility to show him around the Southern Water Tribe and she finds herself stifling a blush every time his jaw drops in awe at one of the towering structures of ice and packed snow.

“This is incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it! Your people built this out of solid ice and nothing else?” he gapes incredulously, unable to tear his eyes off of the city hall building.

“It’s the oldest structure in town, so it was made by waterbenders, back when we still had them,” Katara explains, turning her head to the left and facing him.

“You guys lost your benders, too?” Zuko sighs softly, melancholy creeping into his voice.

“There’s only a handful left in both tribes,” Katara responds, turning her eyes down to the snow. Her vagueness allows her to maintain her claims to veracity, but it is necessary. She still can’t completely trust the Fire Nation, so she hides her expression with a downturned head. Katara doesn’t know if there will ever be a time to reveal the secrets she keeps, but it certainly isn’t now.

“In the Fire Nation, they’re rarer than dragons. Sometimes, I wonder if things could have been different. Perhaps if my ancestors had chosen differently. But it’s too late, now… Although, who knows? Maybe they’ll come back one day.”

Katara looks up again to study the expression on his face and is surprised to find it is genuine. She even ventures to say it is hopeful, with a sheepish quality that suggests he is aware that the odds are against him. She finds it admirable that he still can believe in the improbable. Mere months ago, prancing around the streets of the Southern Water Tribe with the Fire Lord in tow would have been unthinkable. Now, Katara does so with an ease that exudes from the figure next to her.

They watch each other in silence, unable to tear their gazes away from the flowing current of captivation that extends between them. She loses track of who looks away first as snowflakes start to coat their dark lashes in powdery fluff.

By Zuko’s third day in the Southern Water Tribe, the formal speech they use in public begins to sound strange, slowly leeching out from his words every time they find themselves in private. There is no trace of it by the time they are sitting in silence, trying to contemplate the insurmountable task of healing their nations.

Katara is grateful that the endless amount of advisors assigned to them are busy hammering out the minute details of the new treaty, leaving them alone. They can speak privately and share their true thoughts without the pressure of public reputations molding them into something false.

There is no trace of the formality as he asks her, “Katara, how old are you?”

She considers lying for a moment, bolstering her years to paint herself as more authoritative in his eyes. But they call each other by first name now and there is no use. “I’m eighteen. How about you?”

His right eyebrow quirks up as he responds, “Huh, you’re even younger than I thought. I’m twenty.”

Katara has long grown accustomed to his scar, no longer flinching as she stares into it. “You’re not even that much older than me.”

“True. I’m just surprised your tribe put someone so young in charge.”

“They didn’t really have a choice. Our tribe is matriarchal, so my brother and father couldn’t take the mantle after my grandmother passed. I was the only option,” Katara explains, adjusting the twin braids falling into her face so that they rested squarely on her chest. 

He doesn’t ask about her mother. She is grateful that he understands in so few words. She doesn’t talk about the day or the spirit anymore. “It was a similar situation with me. My uncle was supposed to take the throne after my father was deposed, but he didn’t survive the end of the war. So it became my responsibility a lot sooner than expected.”

Katara doesn’t offer condolences. Instead, she slips her mitten-less hand across the table and encloses it around his. He withdraws with an intense blush at first but then locks eyes with Katara. She gazes into his golden eyes like they’re midnight sun looping around the horizon in the summer. He understands and slips his hand into hers again, allowing a wisp of a smile to grace his lips.

He’s beautiful when he smiles. It makes him seem more real before her eyes and she wants proof of this. They simultaneously lean in across the table between them, slowly until there is no space between them and Katara can count every speck of brown in his eyes. She lays her hand softly on the skin of his scar, stroking it with her thumb and he stiffens.

She gives him a reassuring smile, using her other hand to guide his palms to the back of her head. Burying his fingers into the loose section of her hair, he relaxes and pulls her in further.

Their lips press softly together for a moment before the kiss deepens. It has a warmth that is more comforting than the thickest furs and Katara wants to get lost in it.

She does until hearing the telltale sound of footsteps, which forces Katara to wrench herself away from Zuko against the advice of every cell of her being.

His brow is still furrowed in confusion when Sokka strides through the door to find them in their respective seats again, albeit somewhat disheveled. 

“Chieftess Katara and Fire Lord Zuko, both sides have agreed to the terms of the treaty. Signing it is the only thing left to be completed.”

It is somewhat ridiculous to hear her brother feign such an unnatural manner of speech, but Katara suppresses a laugh. The unbridled terror of almost being caught in such a compromising position fades, being replaced with a dangerously light giddiness that makes her far more susceptible to a mistake.

Banishing any sense of her own feelings, Katara returns to her persona of stoicism and replies, “This brings me great joy. Let us do so.”

There is no chance to discuss what happened. Their refusal to be caught acting in such a manner is proof enough that it was not appropriate behavior. It could jeopardize diplomatic relations for generations and Katara had been adamant that she would put her role as Chieftess above personal desires since she inherited the position. Zuko may be the equivalent of a glacier containing multitudes below the surface of water that she wants to explore, but he isn't hers. He belongs to his nation, just as she does.

Once again, Katara returns to rest underneath a facade for which she was already beginning to feel resentment. They will not speak of this again.

She and Zuko leave the kiss behind as they file back into the snow in an attempt to secure the future of their peoples.


	3. Chapter 3

They try to keep their distance and adhere to boundaries like respectable world leaders are supposed to. But they are children who met a mere six months ago and do not understand the potency of what is simmering between them.

Zuko and Katara do not succeed in this venture for more than a few hours after he docks in the Southern Water Tribe again. She nestles into his bare chest as he cradles her head in the nook of his elbow and she is home. There is warmth and he kisses the top of her head with his eyes closed. She vaguely thinks that the gesture must contain some magnitude; she simply does not know what.

There shouldn’t be anything wrong with knowing each other underneath Katara’s sheets, but there is. They both know this and still can’t help themselves. In the dim light of burning whale blubber, their sins aren’t subject to judgment.

Katara buries her face into his chest and wraps her arms around his neck, closing any and all space between them. “We can’t do that again.”

“That’s what you said the last two times,” he mumbles sleepily, tangling his fingers into the loose expanse of her hair.

“Yeah, but I mean it this time,” Katara insists as he begins to chuckle.

She pinches him on the forearm, which he does not appreciate. “Katara!”

“I’m serious, Zuko. The sun is going to rise soon and you need to sneak back onto your ship before anyone catches you.”

“I will; just give me five more minutes,” he said, beginning to place gentle, open-mouthed kisses on her collarbone. 

“You’re insufferable,” she pouts before relinquishing himself to his touch.

“You seem to suffer through my presence just fine,” he says, not even bothering to look at her. She shifts up until their faces are aligned and he kisses her again, silencing any response she could’ve mustered.

Katara lets this go on for a few moments before her senses return to her and she slowly pulls away, cuddling into his chest. She knows that if they continue, he will never bring himself to leave. And she will not have the willpower to make him. He sighs but relinquishes control to Katara, content to merely hold her.

She runs her fingers through the inky hair that curls around the nape of his neck and covers his eyes. “Your hair is shorter than everyone else on the envoy. Why?”

Zuko shifts onto his side so he can meet her eyes, a knowing grin on his face. “Nothing gets past you, huh? But you’re right; everyone tends to have longer hair in the Fire Nation because it’s a status symbol.”

“Hair’s pretty important here in the Water Tribes, too. I guess we have that in common,” Katara muses, twisting the monotony of dark locks into thin braids strewn on the pillow.

“I can tell. You wear a new hairstyle practically every time I see you,” he smiles.

“You notice that?” Katara’s head tilts with her inquiry.

“I notice everything about you.” He says it like a fact, one that she doesn’t want to question.

Fighting back her intense blush, Katara eagerly attempts to change the subject. “That’s sweet, but you’re dodging my question.What happened to your hair? 

He sighs before responding. “It got cut during the war and it’s taking forever to grow back.”

Katara notices that he doesn’t claim responsibility for cutting it, but doesn’t push for more information than he is willing to volunteer. She tries to conceal the frown on her face, but he notices.

“A gigantic nuisance, really. You should hear how mean the maid who does my hair for fancy events gets. Sometimes I’m afraid she’s going to smack me with a comb,” Zuko jokes reassuringly.

Katara giggles softly as he wraps his arms around her waist, turning her to her side so they are slotted together. It feels like she’s found something she spent a lifetime looking for without even knowing it. 

Another thing they don’t talk about is the scar right below his chest, but Katara runs her fingers over it. It’s never about the wars and fighting of the past when they’re together. She likes being able to leave all of it behind. Being with Zuko doesn’t reopen the wounds; it heals them.

Zuko gives a dry laugh before bringing his fingers to the nape of her neck where her pendant rests.“What about your necklace? Does it mean anything? You never take it off.”

Katara sighs, unable to keep the melancholy out of her voice. She finds herself wanting to answer despite the growing sense of dread rising in her blood. Zuko is complicating the equations that determine her emotions and she can’t bring herself to be angry. “It’s a betrothal necklace.”

Zuko raises his eyebrows. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Katara manages a smile. “It isn’t my betrothal necklace.”

“Can I ask who it does belong to?” he questions tentatively.

He could ask anything and she would answer. “It was my mother’s and, before that, my grandmother’s. It belongs to the family of the chieftess and gets passed down from mother to daughter after marriage. There was no one left to wear it, so I got it a little early.”

He runs his fingers over the carving etched deeply into the surface with careful hands. “It’s beautiful.”

She loves that they don’t have to speak to know what the other was saying. The silence between them is beautiful and worth cherishing. 

She’s never felt the surge of inexplicable joy melded with nervousness and hope currently fluttering in her stomach before, but Katara had thought it only existed in stories. Saying its name would give it power, so she simply basks in its presence. 

Eventually, she feels the moon lowering to the point it would change places with the sun. She shakes Zuko’s shoulder softly and says, “It’s been five minutes. You gotta go back.”

He groans as he opens his eyes. “I don’t wanna leave you. If I sneak back to my ship, then I’ll have to go to the Fire Nation in a few hours.”

“I don’t want you to leave either, but it’s for the best. Imagine if someone found out about us. We… We really shouldn’t see each other again. Not like this,” Katara says softly.

He doesn’t take it seriously, smiling as he responds. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, I’m not. This is the last time. For real this time.”

She isn’t expecting him to heave himself up and over her, grabbing both of her wrists to pin them above her head. “I have no idea why you keep saying that when we both know it’s not true.”

No one in her tribe would dare to defy her so blatantly, with so little reservation. Even the old men who think she is young and stupid would not say so to her face. After all, Katara isn’t a person to her people; she’s a figurehead, a continuation of an age-old tradition. She has duties and responsibilities that she must prioritize above careless whims or cheap gratification. It’s uncharacteristic of her to do this with the Fire Lord, especially when she’s well aware of the possible ramifications. 

Zuko defies her with ease and it’s different than when the tribesmen who oppose her do. It comes from a place of playful teasing rather than disagreement. Perhaps he easily usurps authority because he’s used to having it. Maybe he simply knows that, somewhere deep down, she loves having met her match. That she enjoys the challenge and fight of the game rather than the easy wins she has been allowed since wearing her dead mother’s title as a disguise.

He knows her and this is an intimacy that she cannot quite comprehend in a sleep-deprived and bliss-induced haze. She wants this to be no more than sex, but Katara sees clearly that this is impossible. They are connected by loops and tangles of fate that she cannot see, only feel in depths of herself that she doesn’t even know.

Placing a gentle kiss on her head, he releases her wrists and rolls over the side of the bed. She watches him dress in silence and look back through the doorway on his way out.

Katara lies naked in the silence of his stealthy footsteps and wishes he hadn’t gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not me ignoring my big bang fic to work on this again!

**Author's Note:**

> (should) update bi-weekly
> 
> and thanks to panjake for the beta


End file.
